Everytime You Lie
by callmebobbie
Summary: '"Someone do that to you?" "Yes," she breathed, barely audible.' Alternate ending to the Red Eye movie. What if Lisa didn't lie to Jackson in that airplane bathroom? One-shot.
**Back in 2005, I watched a little movie by my favourite horror director Wes Craven with that hot Irish guy from '28 Days Later'. I really liked it. Really, really liked it.**

 **Until the last third of the movie.**

 **Ahem. Spoilers below, sweeties.**

 **I watched the last third with a great deal of WTF-ness as a hotel manager suddenly became an action hero and proceeded to kick a freaking assassin's arse all over the screen. Okay, I'm all for kick-ass heroines (I grew up with Buffy, Xena and Dana Scully as my heroes), but there has to be SOME realistic buildup to said kick-assery, right?**

 **And our favourite bad-boy manager. Really? You just followed her home? WHY? YOU HAD A JOB TO DO WHY AREN'T YOU DOING IT.**

 **So, although I still love the movie enough for repeated viewings, I often find myself turning it off after the whole 'pen-to-the-neck' scene, because that's where it loses me.**

 **A few years ago, I stumbled onto this wonderful site and began to devour the Red Eye fanfics which made sense of the whole last third of this film and, boy, I ADORE some of them to bits. I've written a few other fics in other fandoms, but I got thinking, 'How about I finally write that more plausible Red Eye ending?'**

 **So I've picked up the action in the infamous airplane bathroom scene. What if Lisa didn't lie when Jackson asked her about the scar? How could have this changed the rest of the movie?**

 **I've tried to keep as much to the movie timeline and plot cues as I could, to make it a 'proper' alternate ending I suppose. But I'll leave the judging to you, the readers. The title comes from a random quote I found on the 'net.**

 **DISCLAIMER: None of this is mine (pity).**

 **Oh, and be warned. I ship Jackson and Lisa so hard. So. Very. Hard.**

* * *

"So do Dad a favour and stop. Gambling. With. His. Life," Jackson hissed, tightening his fingers on Lisa's face.

Lisa's heart thumped madly as she raised her eyes to meet his, only inches away. If it were anyone else, he'd be close enough to kiss. Who was she kidding, if it were him two hours ago, he'd be kissable. Her stomach clenched with fear and humiliation.

He was still staring at her, his pale blue eyes unreadable. What did he want, dammit? She licked her dry lips and whispered, "You don't have to do this. Any of this."

Jackson's eyes dropped away from her's. Was he ashamed? A warm finger traced down her collarbone to the top of her wrap top.

No, no…

Jackson peeled the pale fabric down, revealing the long scar that framed the top of her right breast. Lisa felt a cold sweat break out along her spine.

The man who had her pressed up against a plane's lavatory door, who had awakened her interest and just as quickly crushed it like his very effective blow to the head, who was making her choose between the life of a good man and her own father, looked _concerned_.

Glancing up at her face after studying the scar for several unbelievably long moments, he asked, "Someone do that to you?"

Lisa felt her jaw tighten automatically and her lower abdomen burn with remembered pain, her usual subconscious response to the thought of the incident. She fought down her usual denial. Somehow she knew that he wouldn't appreciate a blaze answer.

"Lise?" He forced her face back to his. She had turned away without realising.

"Yes," she breathed, barely audible.

She snapped her gaze onto his, suddenly livid with his mental and physical intrusion into her life. His face dropped with something that looked like shock. "Yes," she spat.

* * *

Jackson didn't ask what happened. Lisa's mood had switched from flight to fight in those last few seconds and suddenly she appeared even more unpredictable than before. It was something he had missed in the long weeks surveilling her. Shit. The rushed and ill-planned hit on Charles Keefe was going belly up, as Jackson had argued in the weeks leading up to that very moment.

He should have never taken this job.

Lisa's eyes were almost spitting flames at him. "What do you care anyway, _Jackson_?" She threw out his name like a curse, "I'm just a means to an end, right?"

He dropped his hand from her face to her throat and felt her pulse strong against his fingertips. Perversely wanting to prolong the little tete-a-tete they were having, he pressed his body closer to her warm, soft one. The thrumming beneath his fingers picked up and she gasped inaudibly, her soft lips parting. Oh, Lise.

"You're so much more than that, Lise," he whispered into her ear. "But for now," he pushed back and forced the indifference back into his eyes, "Yes. Your voice into the phone line is all I need."

Pushing him back slightly with a small grunt, she glared at him once more before she moved to the sink. "Fine," she said sharply, turning on the tap. Jackson watched her curiously. She ripped a handful of tissues from the box near her head and proceeded to soak them in the lukewarm water tricking from the stainless steel tap. Turning off the tap, she picked up the soaked mass and began to furiously rub it into the message she left on the mirror. When most of the letters were obscured, she threw the wet lump into the sink, smirking slightly as a few drops splattered Jackson's suit jacket.

"Cute," he scowled, brushing off his sleeve. "Are we ready to play now?"

A hard laugh escaped Lisa. "Oh, of course," she said, shaking her head. "Of course this is just a game to you." With one last scathing look, she unsnapped the lock and shoved open the door. Jackson's hand snapped out before she could step out and wrapped its way around her upper arm. He pulled her back into the cubicle.

He was grateful there were no people waiting. Cleaning up witnesses can be so messy.

His mouth found her ear and he breathed in the scent of her shampoo. "Not a game, Lisa," he murmured. "You would do well to remember that."

She shrugged him off. "I remember. Asshole."

An involuntary smile quirked at his lips watching her weave her way back to their seats. Professional, Jackson. Keep it professional. His eyes dropped to her ass, and he felt slightly forlorn.

Lisa was stopped by the tall flight attendant and he heard the tail end of their whispered conversation. "…not worth it, really," Lisa was saying as she dropped back into her seat.

The other woman raised an eyebrow at Lisa, then turned to him, an assessing gaze flicking over his appearance, and hummed disapprovingly. She said nothing as he slipped back into 18F.

"Now, if we've finished rating my performance-" Jackson tried not to let the irritation show but may have failed a little judging by Lisa's satisfied air. He leaned over and pulled her phone back out, cord hissing. Swiping the card and tapping in the number, he handed it to her. "You know the drill, Lise."

She snatched the phone without looking at him and glared into space as the phone rang. "Uh, ah," Jackson admonished, switching the phone to the ear closest him, and he leaned into her space again, feeling her stiffen as he leant his head close to the phone.

When Cynthia answered, Lisa sounded a lot more like her usual self, if not slightly more pissed off. But she did as instructed and convinced the woman on the other end of the line to authorise the switch on the Keefe's room. Jackson snatched the phone out of her hand as soon as he heard Cynthia ring off and replaced it in its cradle, giving Lisa a long stare.

"What now?" The woman asked, still refusing to look at him.

"Now," Jackson said smoothly, "We end this flight amiably, go grab a latte at Starbucks while I wait for confirmation that the Keefe's have been taken care of, I call off my guy in the Beemer, and you never have to see me again."

He froze the second he realised he slipped. Dammit. The woman next door had him messing up all night. Lisa turned to him disbelievingly. "Keefe's?" She whispered. "He has his family with him?"

Jackson gritted his teeth. "Not your concern, Lise. Your part is done."

"Not my-" she gasped. "Oh shit. Oh _shit,_ I've just killed Charles' kids!" A small wail began to escape from her throat as she clamped her hands over her mouth, her big green eyes even wider than normal.

Jackson's heart picked up as he realised his mistake. Swearing at himself, he leaned over Lisa's seat and firmly locked a hand onto a forearm, giving it a quick shake. "You will not, I repeat _not_ , make a scene. You dad's life is still at stake here, Lisa. Don't screw this up now."

* * *

She could feel her eyes brimming with tears as she stared at this- at this- "Bastard," she hissed. His cold eyes narrowed further. "You cold-hearted bastard."

"It's my job, Lise," he quipped. They were so close now, the cabin lights were flickering to life and the cabin crew were gliding up and down the aisles in preparation for landing. He scanned the other passengers then turned back to the auburn-haired woman next to him. He allowed a grin to tug at his lips as his hand dropped to her warm thigh. "I'm not all cold, though."

She shot him a look of disbelief as she swatted at his hand, grabbing it off her thigh when the stinging swat wasn't enough to discourage him. "You are unbelievable. Get off me." Jackson twisted their hands so he held her small hand in his. Her tiny fingers fit perfectly in his larger ones. He felt a pang of regret.

Lisa began to tug at her trapped hand. "Don't think you can distract me," she growled. "You're still planning to murder children."

He only grinned infuriatingly and kissed the back of her hand with those full lips of his before she finally manage to wrestle her hand back from him. Bastard. Absolute bastard-

The applause from the other passengers startled her as she realised that they had landed and she didn't even notice. Way to get over her fear of flying.

Wait.

Lisa began to think furiously. Could she still save them? Little Rachel and Ben Keefe? Jackson's head was turned away as he clapped with the others. She needed to get to a phone in a hurry. Cursing silently, she remembered Jackson had put away her purse in the overhead compartment. That wasn't available. Her gaze dropped to his jacket pocket, where he had put his cell at the beginning of that long flight.

Could she get it? She needed a distraction. She cursed herself again. Why didn't she risk stealing that novelty pen from that kid when she had the chance?

Her stomach clenched when the idea finally hit her. A simultaneous burst of anticipation and loathing hit as she glanced sidelong at Jackson. Another fear to conquer, it seemed like. Unbuckling, she stood jerkily as Jackson made to move out of his seat.

"Lise?" The slight warning was ignored as Lisa shuffled to the aisle, only to collapse awkwardly onto her tormentor. She pushed her left shoulder into his side as her right hand landed low on his abdomen. Their legs tangled and she managed to wedge a knee right between his spread legs. She felt his tightly muscled stomach tense under her fingers and she deliberately caressed with her hand, hearing his quick intake of air. Chin lowered, but eyes flicking up into his own icy blues, she flushed with a combination of attraction and adrenaline and muttered an insincere apology.

Jackson was not enjoying the sensation of being completely flummoxed. As a professional who took great pride in being completely in control, this woman had completely slipped under his skin without so much as a by-your-leave and now she was pressed up against him with her warm curves and slender thighs and full lips centimetres away from his own. A fact his so-called controlled body was alerting him to with increasing alarm.

His eyes widened as her hand slipped lower on his stomach, almost brushing his belt. Brain functions ceased when he felt her warm breath on his mouth. Something was clambering for attention at the back of his mind, but all the front of his mind wanted to do was taste the lips he had been watching for eight weeks.

Lisa gave him a look he had never seen on her face before now, a combination of sultry and smug, and the muffled shouting from the brain above his belt became clear.

She was playing him. What a trooper.

That was his last thought before she thrust her knee into his genitals and took off down the crowded plane aisle. Jackson wheezed out a breath and buckled over, still belted into his seat, otherwise he would have definitely been moaning on the floor in a lot more undignified position.

Sucking controlled breaths to ease the pain, the blonde 'Can you help me?' woman glanced over, a concerned look on her tanned face.

"Hey, are you alright? What did she do?" She asked, lightly touching his arm.

"Fine," he gritted out between clenched teeth. "Just a lovers' tiff."

Slightly disgruntled at the description, she snorted and turned back to her bags without another word. Jackson ignored her and lurched off his seat, shuddering at the burning in his loins. Racing to the front of the plane, he ignored the shouts of the staff to see Lisa's flirty little skirt disappear up the concourse.

Gritting his teeth, he set off after her.

* * *

Lisa's breath was coming in uneven pants as she half-walked half-ran through the terminal. She triumphantly clutched Jackson's phone in her sweaty hand and prayed he didn't have a lock on it as she thumbed the power button on.

She couldn't help feeling like something that something that had been missing since her rape two years ago in that sunny carpark had come back. She wasn't broken. Just a little damaged. She had her power back.

Dodging the crowds, she set course for the terminal train connection and tried to think about how the hell she'll get to her Dad's place without any money on her. Jackson's phone buzzed in her hand, and she peered at the screen hopefully.

"Yes!" She cheered quietly, legs still marching determinedly to the train. She pressed in the Lux Atlantic's number and held the cell to her ear, holding her breath while it rang.

"Lux Atlantic, this is Cynthia," her friend answered.

"Cynthia! You have to get the Keefe's out of their room!" Lisa said urgently.

"Lisa? Wha- why?"

"Please! They've been set up, get them out of 4080-"

"I don't-"

"Listen! They're a target! Tell Keefe's security that he's a target! Pull the fire alarm!" Lisa shouted, frustrated.

"Uh. Yeah, okay!" Cynthia always followed instructions well.

Lisa suddenly was ripped backwards as a hand grabbed the back of her wrap top. She fell with a grunt into a really pissed off assassin. He ripped the phone out of her hands and held it high above his head as she jumped for it.

"Give that back!" She demanded.

"You know it's a crime to steal?" Jackson said with deceptive calm. He checked the phone's readout as he still held it high, one arm locked around Lisa's waist to prevent her from both leaping for the phone or getting away.

"Shit," he swore as the battery died. "Now look what you've done, Lise."

"What, you mean, save a family's lives?" She sneered up at him.

"No," he replied. "You've just killed your dad."

It was like he punched her in the gut. "Let me go." She pushed at his chest. He looked down his nose at her. "Let. Me. Go."

He pulled her closer and whispered into her hair, "I'm the only one who can save him."

"You were the one that did this," she snarled back.

"The point still stands, little Lisa."

"Excuse me?" The new voice had them both snapping their heads around. A tall, middle aged security guard stood beside them with a radio in one hand and the other on his sidearm. "Is something the problem?" He narrowed his eyes at Lisa's hands, still uselessly pushing at Jackson's chest.

"Nothing, sir. Sorry about that," Jackson lied smoothly. "We're just airing some domestic grievances." He winked at the older man. "Travel always brings it out. Right, peaches?"

Lisa said nothing until he squeezed her hip warningly. "Yeah. Sorry," she mumbled in monotone.

"Right," the security guard drawled suspiciously. "Maybe wait till you leave the terminal next time, okay?"

"Sure," Jackson agreed with a charming smile as the man walked away. He then twisted his head down and stared coldly at her. "You've been a lot more trouble than I was anticipating, you know."

She clutched the lapels of his jacket and pulled him down slightly. "Good," she said, with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

His face twitched and it looked like he would happily strangle her then and there. He began frog marching her back into the terminal, towards the retail area she rushed through without looking.

"What are you doing?" She demanded, feeling particularly anxious. Not only was Jackson's anger palatable, she couldn't believe she forgot the man parked outside her Dad's place, even for a second.

"I'm going to fix your mess, Lise," he said lightly. His arm slipped from her waist and and grabbed her hand in his. She pulled at it ineffectually. Ugh. He was so touchy-feely. She didn't bother to ask him to let go. She had _seriously_ pissed him off. He shot into a small electrical store, and not letting go of her hand, walked out four minutes later with a new, fully charged cell phone.

He punched in a number as Lisa trotted to keep up with him.

"It's me," he said shortly into the phone.

"Yes."

"What?" He growled in frustration. "She was-" he glanced at the apprehensive woman by his side, "difficult to convince."

"No!" He shouted after a moment, "I told you this!" Lisa looked around nervously at the attention Jackson was getting.

"Jackson-" she nudged his side.

His jaw tightened, and he stopped in his headlong striding out to the exit and stared at Lisa. "Do it. It's time for clean up." He pulled the phone away from his ear and hung up.

"My dad," she pleaded.

He stared at her a moment longer, then sighed, looking away. "It's too late, Lise."

"No," she whispered. "No!" Her voice became louder. "Jackson!"

"You voided the deal, Lisa," he muttered pulling her along again. "It's out of my hands now."

"But, you can stop it!" She felt her throat closing up. "You said- you said that he only listens to you. Th- that only you can call him off!"

They stumbled outside, and Lisa automatically took a deep breath in of the warm, humid air of Florida. He ushered her towards the car park, but she had had enough. She needed to get to her dad. She planted her weight and ripped her hand up towards her face, the way she remembered from her self-defence classes. Jackson turned in surprise, but she was ready. Driving her heel into the back of one of his knees, she fled as his leg collapsed with a sharp shout.

Lisa screamed as he grabbed the back of her wrap-around top, but quickly unknotted the belt and left it in his hands, taking off just in her sleeveless top.

"Lisa!" He bellowed, pushing himself to his feet. "LISA!"

She let out a small sob as she belted away from him, heading straight into the congested traffic in the arrivals and departures area. She could almost hear him panting behind her and put on a burst of speed, despite the stitch quickly forming in her side. Resisting the temptation to look behind, she concentrated on not losing one of her sturdy work heels and ran in front of a bus.

The driver leaned on the horn but, as is usual with bus drivers, did not slow down. Which gave Lisa her escape. Throwing herself onto the pavement on the other side of the road and diving behind a practical four-wheel drive, she gasped and sobbed kneeling on the hot tarmac as she tried to catch her breath.

Please, please, please let her get away.

"Are- are you okay?" Lisa's head snapped up at the soft voice above her.

"P- pl- please," she gasped. "Don't l-let him see me." She shot the tall blonde woman about her own age with an equally blonde-haired toddler in her arms a pleading look. The other woman gave a quick glance over to where Lisa last saw Jackson and tightened her jaw.

"Here," she said quickly, "Climb in. Keep low." She opened the back door and Lisa gratefully crawled in. She could hear the woman buckling in her little girl, who was babbling happily back at her mother. "Hang on, blossom," she cooed to the girl, and Lisa ducked her head down further when a soft baby blanket dropped over her, hiding her further.

"Thank you. Thank you so much," she whispered gratefully.

"No problem," the blonde woman whispered back. The door clicked closed and the little girl giggled.

"Bossum! Ma, bossum!"

"That's right, my little blossom," the woman said, jumping into the drivers seat and smoothly taking off. "Let's go home, hmm?"

They drove in silence for a few minutes while Lisa continued to catch her breath. Eventually, she raised her head and pulled the blanket off, brushing hair out of her eyes.

"Bankie move!" The toddler shrieked happily.

Smiling up at the excited girl, Lisa moved to sit on the seat next to her. "Thank you so much, thank you," she gushed.

"You're alright now," her mysterious saviour threw over her shoulder. "I'm Sarah, by the way. You're sitting next to Macie."

"Hello, Macie," Lisa smiled at the little girl, who immediately stuck a hand in her mouth and peered shyly at the strange woman in the back seat with her. "I'm Lisa," she introduced herself to Sarah. "And I think you just saved my life."

"Well, that's sure exciting!" Sarah laughed. "Not what I was expecting when I agreed to drop my husband off at the airport this morning."

"Yeah, well," Lisa chuckled nervously. "I- I had a bit of trouble-" She stumbled over what to say next, should she tell this woman the truth? Would it get her hurt? Would she think Lisa was even sane?

"Look," Sarah said from the front, "You don't have to say anything. You needed help, I helped. Was it that guy? In the suit?"

"Yeah," Lisa sighed. "Trouble never looked so good." Sarah snickered at the brunette's dark humour.

"Where're you headed, Lisa?" She asked.

Lisa felt nauseous at the thought of her dad. "Can you take me to my dad's? Blossom Palms Lane?"

"Bossum!" Macie cheered.

"That's right, Macie," Lisa couldn't help but grin. "Blossom."

"Sure," Sarah replied. "My mom lives around there, actually. Today looks like a good day for a visit, if a little earlier than usual."

Now that Lisa could relax a little, she began to feel all the little bruises and injuries inflicted on her over the last six hours. She winced as she felt the lump on her forehead. Dropping her hand, she glanced over at Sarah again. "Hey, you wouldn't have a cell phone I could borrow, would you?"

"Yeah, here," she said, fishing into her handbag and passing a flip phone over her shoulder. "He really did a number on you, huh."

"Yeah, he did. Asshole. Oop- Sorry! Macie, don't say that," Lisa said apologetically. Sarah just laughed, thankfully.

Lisa punched in her dad's number and held her breath. The answering machine picked up. "Dad! It's Lisa. If you're still at home, get out. Go to the neighbours. Go anywhere, but don't stay at home. Oh! And leave by the back door, don't go out the front. And if you see a silver BMW, run. I mean it. Please, go! I love you." She hung up.

"What the hang happened to you?" Sarah asked sympathetically, watching Lisa brush away a few tears.

Lisa took in a shuddering breath, "It's probably safer for you if you don't know, Sarah." She flipped open the phone again to ring Cynthia and the Lux Atlantic.

* * *

Sarah dropped her off at one end of Blossom Palms Lane, at Lisa's insistence. Finally taking off her heels, she jogged down to her dad's house, eyes peeled for any silver cars. Her breath quickened when she didn't see _any_ cars. What she too late?

Lifting the heavy pot plant and fishing out the spare house key, Lisa unlocked the front door and slammed it behind her, locking it firmly. "Dad?" She called out. "Dad!" She dropped her shoes and ran for the living room, still calling for her father.

She began to get desperate as she raced through an empty kitchen and up the stairs to his bedroom. "Dad!" Keep calm, keep calm. He's okay. He's got to be okay.

Throwing herself down the stairs again she headed to the back door, and almost tripped over the body sprawled on the floor. "No!" She shrieked. "Daddy!" She slid to her knees beside him and immediately cupped his warm face in her hands. Pressing two fingers into the side of his neck, she sobbed with relief when she felt a strong pulse.

The air thickened.

"Hi," Jackson greeted the kneeling woman, hand casually in pockets.

"What have you done?" She screeched, her voice unnaturally high.

"Just a knock to the back of the head, Lise. Nothing serious," he shrugged. "Didn't want him wandering all over the place, ringing the police and whatnot before we could have a chat."

"You're sick," she hissed, clambering to her feet. "Why can't you just leave us alone."

"Now, now," he said reprovingly, "Let's not get all emotional here, Lise-"

"Ha!" She spat. "Really? Me, emotional? I think you might be going through your own 'emotional dilemma', _Jack_. How's Keefe, huh? He sends his regards, by the way."

Jackson's nostrils flared with anger. "Clever girl. Insult the man holding the knife." Lisa's eyes widened at the large, extremely sharp looking knife he pulled from behind his back. She took two stumbling steps back as she blinked away flashbacks. Hot carpark. Stifling van. Sharp pain.

He wouldn't. Would he?

She didn't want to wait and see. Silently apologising to her father, she turned tail and ran. His longer legs caught her before she could make it more than five paces to the front door. He grabbed a handful of her sleeveless top and pulled her back. Her bare feet skidded on the wooden floors before they left the ground completely.

She fell on her back, dazed and winded, blinking stupidly into his cold blue eyes. Although now, they weren't that cold anymore. They burned with anger and something else. He crouched down beside her, looking her up and down, taking in her disheveled appearance. He threw a leg over her waist and straddled her, holding the knife more firmly in his long fingers.

* * *

The woman beneath him began making desperate sounds as she tried to get her breath back. The look in her face was pure terror.

She was absolutely _terrified_.

For some reason, this bothered Jackson. Here was the woman who had fought him the entire flight, with both her words and her actions, the woman he had been watching with increasing obsession over nearly two months, and she's broken by the sight of a knife at her chest-

Oh.

His eyes slid to the scar he knew was covered by her shirt. At this point, she began to babble senselessly. She gripped his wrists and, with tears running down her face, she began to beg him, "No, no, no. Please! No-"

It broke his heart. Huh. Who would have thought he still had one of those, let alone one that still worked. He slowly backed away and heaved himself off of her, one hand open in a surrender posture, the other sliding the KA-BAR back into the holster behind his back.

"Lisa," he spoke to the shattered woman softly. "Lisa, it's okay. I'm not him. I'm not him."

Pushing herself to her elbows, then using her hands and feet, she scrambled away from him until she reached a wall, panting heavily. Dashing the tears angrily from her eyes, she gave him a glare that should have had him dead and buried right there.

He tried again. "I wouldn't do that to you."

"Oh yeah?" Her voice was thick with tears. "And why not? You've hurt me in every other way today. Why not finish me off?"

He sighed. "Because it wouldn't serve me." She looked confused and upset now. "You forget, I want to steal you, Lise."

"No, you don't," she argued. "You want to kill me-" Jackson shook his head slowly. "You don't?" She hiccupped. "Why not?"

He laughed in disbelief. "Really?"

She quickly glanced to where her father was lying. "You're not going to kill us?"

"No, Lise. I'm not going to kill you or your father."

She was quickly regaining her composure. "What's going on, Jack?" She demanded. "What's changed?"

Jackson leaned back on his hands, legs stretched out in front of him. "The job," he began. "The job has changed. Well, it failed, to be frank. But, of course, you know this, being the one that caused the failure of said job. You see, I was supposed to handle your part with the right incentives, Charles Keefe was supposed to be taken out with whatever method was thought appropriate-"

"They shot a _missile_ into my hotel!"

"-and then we were to go on our merry way, never to see each other again. But alas, Keefe is still alive, my man outside was called off - what's the point of bringing attention to our work with a nasty homicide in the 'burbs? - and you-"

He paused, flicking his eyes lazily over the woman in front of him.

"You may know too much now, little Lisa."

She crossed her arms protectively over her chest. "I don't know anything." He snorted. "I don't! I have no idea about you or your 'jobs' or anything! Not any more than I would have known if everything went according to your _plan_." Her arms then dropped with her mouth. "Wait, if I'm a liability, that means you would have had to get rid of me anyway-"

Jackson's lips pressed tightly together.

"You _lied!_ You said I would be able to go!"

"Not lied," he argued. "You would have been able to go. But just not for long." She stared suspiciously at him as she pushed herself up to her feet, using the wall as a support. "Lise," he warned, pulling himself off the floor. "Don't run. I'm not going to kill you," he repeated.

"But that was part of the job, Jackson," she whispered harshly. "That was _your_ part of the job." She ran.

Lisa tore up the stairs and down the hall to her old room, slamming the door in Jackson's face. She wedged a chair under the handle as the door shuddered under his weight. "Open the door!" He bellowed.

Looking around for something she could use for a weapon, she remembered her old hockey stick that was buried somewhere in the back of her old wardrobe. She dove in and fished around for a few moments before pulling out her prize with a happily cheer.

Holding it up, she turned around to see Jackson standing behind her. Shit! Stupid two-way bathroom. Swinging wildly, he leapt back then rushed her before she could bring the stick back to swing again.

He pushed her up against the wall next to her still-barricaded door with an audible grunt, her stick pressed between their bodies. "Lisa, I like the chase as much as the next guy, but you're gonna have to give it up at some point."

"Piss off, Jackson!" She retorted, pushing at him with the stick, eyes screwed up with the effort. "Ugh! You're so annoying!"

He threw his head back and laughed. "'You're so annoying,'? Oh, Lise, are we thirteen?"

She scowled at him and said nothing as she continued to attempt to wrestle the only weapon she had out of his grip. Impatiently, Jackson threw it to the other side of the room. "Listen to me, Lisa," he demanded.

"No!"

"Yes!" He grabbed her flailing hands and pinned them to either side of her head. "I'm not going to kill you. I'm not going to kill your dad. I've grown a little- attached to you." He cocked his head as he studied her, with her bright green eyes and flushed face. "I think I want to keep you around a little longer." He rocked back as she pushed forward suddenly with her hips in a bid to escape, but he just as quickly pushed her back against the wall. "And now that the job has failed, I'll get my chance."

"You're not going to _steal_ me, Jack," she scoffed.

"We'll both need to lie low for a while," he continued as if she hadn't spoken. "But, I'll let you have a choice. I'll give you a day or two to think about it." He grinned suddenly. "I won't steal you just yet, but I'll steal something else to keep me going."

"Oh, yeah?" She panted, giving up on pushing the larger man off. "What's that?"

He hummed thoughtfully, then bent his head and pressed his lips against hers. Lisa froze with shock. His lips were as soft as they looked and all the pent up tension from the last half a day exploded when he pressed them more firmly and she felt the tip of his tongue against the seam of her lips. She gave in, and opened her mouth with a small moan. Jackson groaned quite loudly and dove in, shifting his hands so one was cupping the back of her skull and the other caressing her lower back.

"Oh, Lise," he murmured thickly, "You have no idea how I've wanted-"

"I have an inkling," she muttered back, pressing her hips into his and feeling his arousal hard against her belly. He moaned again and she met him halfway, wanting to taste every part of his mouth.

What was it about this man, this _Manager_ , that shook awake feelings she had thought she lost years ago. She had never felt this connection with anyone, man or woman, before. Ever.

She ran her hands down his sides, under his jacket, feeling the heat of his body and the hardness of his lean physique. Jackson let out a pleased rumble of approval at her touch and the muscles bunched under her fingers as he crouched lower, his hands going to her thighs.

She froze as she felt his warm fingers touch her bare thighs.

Jackson also froze, panting against her mouth. "S-sorry," he gasped. He caught her eyes with his, his dilated with desire, hers suddenly fearful. He dropped his hands and stepped away from the smaller woman, despite the urge he battled to wrap her up in his arms and protect her-

Wait, what?

He shook his head to clear it. That's not the urge he usually battles when it comes to attractive, infuriating women. Lisa was eyeing him warily, but she didn't have the plain terror in her eyes like she did when he pinned her down downstairs. He cleared his throat.

"A day or two, Lise. I'll let you decide," he said, voice still husky. She licked her lips subconsciously and he nearly groaned at the sight.

"I won't go with you," she reply was just as rough.

Jackson smirked. "We'll talk later." He strode past her and unhooked the chair from beneath her door, and, giving her one last grin, ran down the stairs and out the front door, closing it gently behind him.

Lisa was still plastered to the wall, not entirely sure what was going on. She let him kiss her, and her bad memories didn't even surface until he touched her thighs. She recalled how she had 'accidentally' fallen on him when she wanted his cell phone on the plane. She felt- powerful. New. Like she was healing.

Which was ridiculous of course. Allowing a man like that to be the first one to touch her after the incident two years ago is the stupidest-

A groan echoed up the stairs. "Dad!" Lisa gasped, and raced down the stairs.

* * *

The Lux Atlantic was in chaos. Emergency service people flew back and forth, ushering people away, carrying out the less mobile and treating the injured, which weren't too many, thank goodness.

Men dressed in plain black suits littered the area, with a concentration around Charles Keefe and his family. Lisa and her dad stepped out of his car, and she winced slightly at the ache in her feet as they had been crammed back into her heels and she pulled up the sleeves of the old sweater that she had thrown on back at her dad's house.

"Lisa! Oh my gosh!" Cynthia came running out of the hotel, long red hair bouncing against her back. "Lisa," she gasped grabbing her friend's arm, "I got them out! So close! Anyway, Keefe's security- his security wants to talk to you. And the FBI-"

"It's okay, Cyn," Lisa reassured the other woman. "I'll go talk to them. How's the structural damage? Did anyone get hurt?"

Cynthia shook her head. "A few scratches and bruises, but mostly shock. A _certain_ couple laid an official complaint," she said sourly. "But considering a missile took out several rooms on the fourth floor, the building is sound, according to initial reports from the fire service and building maintenance."

"Well, that's something," Lisa sighed with relief.

"Lisa," Cynthia's voice lowered. Lisa glanced back and saw her dad being reluctantly checked over by a paramedic, and turned back to her friend.

"Yeah?"

"What the hell happened on that flight? I mean, you said there was some guy, but I didn't hear anything else you said, it was crazy here."

Lisa took a deep breath. "There was a guy, next to me on the plane-"

"Ms Reisert?" An older woman in an FBI vest came up to the two women.

"That's me," Lisa replied carefully, seeing a few more agents come up behind the woman.

"We'd like to ask you a few questions, please."

"Sure," she said. "Cynthia, how about you go open the bar a bit early?"

Cynthia's eyes darted from the agent to Lisa. "Sure, Lise. I'll catch you later." She hurried back into the hotel.

Lisa looked back at the FBI agent. This didn't look too good.

* * *

Eighteen hours later, Lisa was attempting to sleep on the hard surface that was supposed to be a bed in her small cell. Rolling over onto her back, she stared at the ceiling, refusing to cry. Again.

With no evidence of any 'job', and no trace of a 'Jackson Rippner', Lisa had been taken in for questioning over the attempted assassination of Senator Keefe and his family.

Despite the bruises on her head and arms, and the testimony that there was a young man with dark hair sitting next to her on the Fresh Air flight from Texas, evidence was thin on the ground to prove that the room change was not her idea. She used her seat phone and her credit card to call and authorise the change, after all. Her father tried to help, but he never saw Jackson before he was knocked out.

"Get up!" The guard slammed his baton against the bars, and Lisa jumped in fright. She said nothing as they gave her some standard-issue shoes to go with the standard issue trousers and standard issue t-shirt she was wearing. He slapped on some handcuffs too, to complete the look.

Walking close behind her, the guard greeted some others they passed and he lead her out into the dark loading bay where a plain dark sedan was parked. The driver didn't get out to greet them.

"Where am I going?" Lisa asked finally.

"Head down," the guard ignored her question and pushed her down into the back seat. He sauntered over to the driver's side window and exchanged a few low words with the driver. Lisa slumped in her seat and stared out the window. She hadn't slept for going on 36 hours now and her apathy at her whole situation was at an all-time high.

The engine came to life and they pulled out of the loading bay. Driving in silence for a few minutes, Lisa realised that they were heading out of town. She began to get nervous.

"Um, were are we going?" She asked again.

"Anywhere you like." She froze at the voice and turned to the driver, incredulous. He took off his baseball cap and shook out his dark locks. Twisting a bit in his seat, Jackson grinned at her, "You ready for a road trip, Lise?"

She was speechless. He mouth opened and closed a few times before she managed to splutter, "Y-you absolute bastard! What the- How did- Argh!" She yelled in frustration at the roof while the blue-eyed devil in the driver's seat cackled.

"I figured you may have changed your mind on the whole 'being stolen' matter," he said cheerfully.

Lisa glared at him. "Yeah, well. You're still an ass." She groaned dropping her head onto the head rest. "Ugh. Fine. It wasn't as if I was ever going to see the light of day again, thanks to you."

"Aw, poor little Lise. A little taste of incarceration and she's already lost all hope," Jackson pouted playfully.

"Shut up. And get these handcuffs off me."


End file.
